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“It smells like stale fried chicken in here.” Molly wrinkles her nose and lifts her chin. “Or sweaty feet.”
“Maybe it’s sweaty, fried chicken feet?”
She giggles and bumps into me again. This time, I curl my hand around hers and pull her to my side.
“I wish you’d do that out there,” she says, so low I almost miss the words and the hurt behind them.
“Do what?”
“Hold my hand.”
“Molly.” I sigh and pull her closer. “I told you…please, just give it some time.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “You heard your brother the other day. Did he sound real receptive to us dating?”
She frowns and lifts her hand, resting it over my heart. “He doesn’t own me. He can’t tell me who I can date.”
I snort and shake my head. “It’s cute that you think he won’t have a lot of loud opinions about it.”
“He can say whatever he wants. It’s not going to change how I feel about you.” She tilts her head, killing me with the innocent expectation written all over her expression.
“It won’t change how I feel about you either, Muffin?—”
“Don’t call me that when you won’t hold my hand in public.”
“What?” I grab her by the hips and push her back until her butt hits the long, high metal counter in the center of the space, then boost her up on it so we’re at eye level. “I’ve always called you Muffin.”
“Yeah, but…” Her gaze slips to the side and she shrugs.
“I promise, this isn’t going to be forever. I’ll talk to him. Just…not yet.”
She sighs.
“Hey, look at me.” I trace my finger over her cheek and apply gentle pressure until she turns my way.
Our eyes lock. She throws her arms around my neck. Whatever words I had in mind dissolve into meaningless particles.
I lean down. She stretches up, pressing her chest to mine. Our lips meet, soft and gentle. She opens her mouth and I sweep my tongue inside, tasting cinnamon. She’s tentative at first, then lashes her tongue against mine.
“Griff,” she murmurs, tightening her arms around my neck and squirming closer to the edge of the counter.
Good God, she’s at the perfect height. I’m painfully hard for her. If those jeans weren’t in my way, we’d be in trouble.
I rumble an encouraging sound and she presses tighter to my body. I slide my hands from her back to her hips and flick my thumbs against the hem of her sweatshirt. Her legs wrap around my waist, trapping me in the best way possible.
She fuses her mouth to mine again, letting out a greedy little noise that sets me on fire. My hands slip under her sweatshirt and encounter another layer. I pull that up and finally graze soft, warm skin. Molly lets out another moan.
“Griff!” someone barks, shattering the secluded and steamy bubble Molly and I have created.
Busted. Caught.
“Fuck.” I turn toward the door, shielding Molly with my body. Behind me, she curls her fingers in my shirt and rests her forehead between my shoulder blades. No time like the present to confess my sins to Remy.
But it’s not Remy glowering at me from the doorway. It’s Dex.
Thank fuck.
Maybe I shouldn’t be too quick to offer up thanks. The Lost Kings MC’s road captain has irritation carved into every line of his face.
Still, at least it’s not Remy. I blow out a relieved breath. “Give me a sec, Dex.”
